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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155859">One Friday Night at Washington's</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupyacunt/pseuds/shutupyacunt'>shutupyacunt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Being Forced to Get along, Fighting, Friendship, Gen, Getting in Trouble, I will go down with this Trio, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Prussia being awesome for four hours straight, Sneaking Out, This is part of another series but can stand alone, Washington and Denmark and Prussia are nothing but trouble together, because Prussia is a good friend, because why not, becoming pals, damn you weatherman, finding your bro in life, he's done bad things in the past though, states can and do have relationships with other nations, this is what happens when I'm forced to stay indoors, wanting your buddy's girl and not doing anything, we'll discover these things in the full story</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:06:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,945</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupyacunt/pseuds/shutupyacunt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After they get into another fight over stupid shit, Denmark and America force Washington and Prussia to spend the weekend together until they can get into a disagreement without resorting to violence.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Denmark/Washington (Hetalia), Prussia/Washington (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>One Friday Night at Washington's</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Washington had the dankest hash ever.</p><p>Prussia knew he should be completely chill and over the moon, because who else was awesome enough to have permission to get totally baked on hash and edibles alone with someone else's woman?  He was the only one.  </p><p>But now she was just lurking there in the dark and...plotting things.  He knew it.  She had gotten him here and had gotten him good and wasted and now she was going to betray him and kill him.  </p><p>She muttered something, and he screamed.  "What?  Jesus Christ."</p><p>"Cocoa Pebbles, Gil. I said Cocoa Pebbles."</p><p>He relaxed.  "Count Chockula."</p><p>She hissed.  "Shit, I forgot about that.  Yes.  Count Chockula."</p><p>"Waffles," he added.</p><p>"Crepes."</p><p>"Erdbeeren."</p><p>She sat up.  "Himbeeren."</p><p>"Big spoon," he declared.</p><p>"Little spoon."</p><p>They sat against the headboard, playing the game until they got to the inevitable subject of beer.  Washington threatened to punch him if he kept dissing her microbrews, and they ended up in a violent fistfight that took them all the way outside.  As Denmark and Amerika tried to have a conversation about whose pastries were better, they were loudly interrupted by Washington and Prussia completely beating the shit out of each other.  They hit the ground, rolling around and trying to strangle each other while punching each other at the same time.  Prussia finally managed to throw her off and tried to get away, but she rose up and lunged at him, pinning him.</p><p>"My beer is not inferior!  Let's see who gets drunker off whose beer," she announced, sitting on his chest. </p><p>"Uh-oh," Amerika sighed.  "Hey, guys, not right now, okay?  How about tomorrow?"</p><p>Washington glared at him.  "How about shut up?  This is all your fault."</p><p>"Help," Prussia muttered, unable to move.  Then he glared at Denmark.  "You know, you could help out here.  Get her off me!"</p><p>"I could," he agreed. "But no."  He stood up and checked his watch.  "Oh.  It's time.  Ejnar, kom nu, vi tager med onkel Norge," he bellowed.  </p><p>"Why?" Washington exclaimed.  "Come on,  Mathias.  Wasn't that en--"</p><p>"Ssh," he said,  pulling her to her feet, to Prussia's everlasting relief.  "No.  Listen,  elskede.  You have to be able to have a disagreement with Gilbert without getting violent.  What we should have done is gotten you two one of those 'get along' shirts, but they don't come in adult sizes and we didn't plan far enough ahead to have one made.  So you're  going to be here by yourselves with Bartholomew to keep track of progress until you guys can go without beating the shit out of each other over stupid shit."</p><p>"That's not fair! She started it," Prussia complained. </p><p>"No I didn't!"</p><p>"Oh, you did," he insisted.</p><p>Amerika narrowed his eyes. "Both of you sit facing the hanging tree."</p><p>As they sat down,  not looking at each other,  Prussia said to her, "You're a goddamn psychopath.  Who has a fucking hanging tree in their yard? Oh. You."</p><p>"Five minutes of no talking," Denmark announced.  "Starting now." </p><p>Washington and Prussia gave each other dirty side-eye.  Denmark and Ejnar both came to her side and kissed her goodbye. </p><p>"Well, Norge is here, so we'll be back in a few days," Denmark said.  "No talking," he added, when she opened her mouth to protest.  "Bartholomew has me on speed dial.  He'll let me know the minute one of you fucks up.  Because then the time starts all over again!  So have fun, you two!"</p><p>"Ja, bye, mama," Ejnar said.  "Bye Onkel Gilbert.  Try not to kill each other too much."</p><p>"And remember," Denmark added, "no talking for five minutes."</p><p>Washington gave him an obscene gesture the minute they turned to go, and then glared at Prussia again.  He stuck his tongue out at her.  They sat there glaring at the tree for what seemed like a million years,  until Washington scoffed and stood up.</p><p>"Hey!" Prussia exclaimed.  "That was never five minutes just now!"</p><p>"No fucking shit.  More like five years," Washington said.  "Hey, I have an idea.  Let's get outta here.  All we gotta do, is bribe Bartholomew with some 'nip and salmon treats and we're totally golden." She grabbed his arm and pulled him up.  "There's no way I'm just gonna hang out here on a Friday night  when everyone's gone!  I'll go take care of Bartholomew and you get online to find a fucking band playing."</p><p>Bartholomew was totally down to let them go, on the condition that they at least make it home in time for Denmark's scheduled FaceTime call. </p><p>"No problem," Washington said. "Be a good kitty."</p><p>Bartholomew sniffed derisively.  "Are you kidding?  It's me!"</p><p>She looked at him out of the tops of her eyes.  "Exactly."</p><p>"Okay, Birdie," Prussia announced, "there's a show at Neumos starting at 9:30.  And I saw a blip for an art tour in this awesome old house--"</p><p>She shook her head.  "Wait, you said what?  A <em>blip?"</em></p><p>"Yeah, you know, a little blip about something," he explained. </p><p>"Gil, you are <em>fucked</em>, dude," she declared, as she piled salmon treats on a plate for Bartholomew. <em> "Blip</em>.  Jesus Fucking Christ."</p><p>Prussia would regret ever using that word by the time they got into his car to  drive into Seattle's Capitol Hill neighborhood.  And even then she wasn't done tormenting him.  Every time they stopped at a traffic signal, she would whisper, "Blip".  Finally he turned on the stereo and raised the volume as high as it would go.  </p><p>He stopped in front of a large, sweeping Victorian.  Washington obviously knew the place, because she made sure to point out the stupid white string lights around the eaves of the house.</p><p>"She saw a picture of my place that someone took during a party," Washington sneered.  "I had these lights up so that my guests could see, not for looks.  This broad doesn't have outdoor parties during the winter," she added.  "She just thought it looked elegant."  She rolled her eyes and put her arm through his.  "Well, get ready for the most self-absorbed twat you'll never want to meet again.  The inside of her house is cool  though."</p><p>"All right, Birdie," he said, "let's roll."</p><p>"I'd like to thank you all for coming tonight and generously donating to the Seattle MoMA," the greying, post-menopausal bird said.  "As many of you already know, I'm Gloria Cunliffe, and I host these art gatherings on the third Fridays of each month.  This month happens to coincide with Syttende Mai, so we're welcoming our Norwegian friends here this evening," she added.  Her eyes rested on Prussia and Washington.  Prussia was immediately reminded of a vulture.  "Why Katrina Braginskaya," she said.  "How lovely for you to attend.  And who is this charming gentleman?"</p><p>Washington introduced them, assuming the most formal mannerisms that he had seen her use since that awful night in Potsdam.  He noticed that Gloria Cunliffe seemed a bit on the waspish side and figured she would be good for an antic of unprecedented proportion, so he decided that they might as well stay a while and mingle. </p><p>The buzzard took him around the room, introducing him to several of her associates and friends.  Prussia wasn't sure if he should pretend to be impressed or not.  Washington,  he noticed, wasn't even bothering to make eye contact with any of them.</p><p>"And this is Martin Bohrmann and his wife Elisa," Gloria Cunliffe went on.  Prussia's ears perked a bit at the name, and he politely nodded at the bookish-looking man and his equally timid wife.  "And here we have Mr. and Mrs. Darryl Hitler..."</p><p>Prussia smiled predatorily and paused next to the suddenly-terrified Hitlers.  "You aren't by chance related to the Boston Hitlers?" he purred as Washington struggled to keep from braying out laughing.  The girl was admirably straight-faced.  Denmark was so lucky.</p><p>"No, we're from Glen Cove, New York," Darryl said, clearly trying not to piss himself.  The Cunliffe wasp eyed Prussia  in suspicion.</p><p>"Gloria, darling, I'm noticing that you've finally installed the Ressie," a too-tall and too thin woman declared down her nose.  "Feel that pile.  It's simply divine."</p><p>Several guests made sounds of appreciation as they examined the rug beneath their feet, and then a man entered the room and Gloria Cunliffe crowed in snobbish delight.</p><p>"Oh, shit!" Washington hissed, yanking Prussia around the corner.  "It's Sten Haglund!  He's still fucking pissed at me from when I shot off fireworks at his house like twenty years ago!"</p><p>Prussia peeked around the corner at a dour-looking man of legendary girth.  His size made Level 3 Göring look positively svelte.  "What's the trouble,  Birdie?" he asked, smirking.  "He seems nice."</p><p>"Huh, yeah, probably because Gloria Cunliffe has been sucking his cock in public toilets for the past eighty years," she sneered, grabbing two glasses of wine off the passing tray.  She took,
 a drink and nearly gagged.  "Oh.  Oh, fuck, this is awful!  Don't drink that," she warned, hoping to stop him before he could raise the glass to his lips.</p><p>Too late, Prussia held the liquid blasphemy in his mouth, desperately looking for somewhere to spit it out.  Finally he spied a sturdy little handbag sat on the table by the door.  As he slid it away from him, his arm hit Washington's and she dropped her wineglass. </p><p>"Fuck!" she yelled, and conversation around them came to a halt.  Gloria Cunliffe immediately called a servant over to take care of the mess.  "I sincerely apologize,  Gloria." </p><p>The woman eyed her critically for a moment and then offered her a stiff smile.  "It's quite all right dear," she said.  "It's just an old rug." She looked from Washington to Prussia and her smile looked even more forced.  Washington looked around for a moment, frowning. </p><p>"Okay, just...dab it, and blot it," Gloria Cunliffe was saying to the maid, who nearly looked as though she were going to burst into tears.  Prussia thought it might be a good time for them to split, but Washington was still looking around in confusion. </p><p>"Gil, where the fuck's my purse?" she demanded.  "I left it right...oh, there it is," she sighed, reaching behind the statue Prussia had shoved it near.  She lifted it into her hand and then recoiled in disgust.  "What the fuck?" she exclaimed, dropping  her purse on the rug.  Red wine exploded out of it, running in rivulets towards the earlier spill. "Jesus!"</p><p>"My dear," Gloria Cunliffe began, touching her arm briefly.  She quickly took her hand away as if she feared Washington had leprosy, Prussia thought. "Katrina, if your hands aren't steady enough to hold a glass of wine, then perhaps you shouldn't be drinking wine.  Once is an understandable accident, but twice in a row--"</p><p>Prussia had had enough of this woman's insufferable pomposity.   He took another glass off the circulating tray and promptly dumped it out, right at the servant's feet.  "There," he announced.  "Now you can take your damned carpet to the cleaners and send the bill to me.  Come along,  Katrina, we're going."</p><p>"You son of a bitch," Gloria Cunliffe said, coldly.  Prussia drew himself up and regarded her with every bit of Prussian disdain that he could muster, which was actually a considerable amount. </p><p>"You dare call me a son of a bitch?" he mocked.  "Believe me when I tell you that I have seen a great number of deviant fetishes in my lifetime, but your erotic obsession with your rug is the most depraved thing I have ever borne witness to.  Good evening, Mrs. Cunliffe."  He turned and gracefully swept Washington out of the room, pausing in the foyer to retrieve their jackets.  "Just a minute," he added.  "Go on outside.  I'll be right there."</p><p>He nipped around the staircase towards the back of the house.  His little project would only take him a few minutes, but he had to work rapidly because he didn't want to leave her standing there too long.</p><p>Washington was waiting for him on the porch.   He hustled her down the steps and towards his car, hurrying but not quite running.  "Let's get the fuck out of here!"</p><p>"Where are we going?" she asked as the car tore up the hill.  "Neumos is the other way.  What did you do?"</p><p>He came to a stop on the point above the house.  "Remember those lights you hated so much?" he asked.  "Well, I decided that I would have a little fun and create some visual art of my own.  Check it out," he said, smiling proudly.  Washington gazed down at the house, drawing in a deep breath.  Her eyes widened in amazed appreciation as she looked upon the lights which now spelled out CUNTLIFFE.  </p><p>"Gil," she breathed, "that is the most awesome thing I  have ever seen on someone's house."</p><p>"Do you really like it? I did it because she was such a whorebag towards you," he informed her.  "Ha! As if she could possibly be more cultured than the awesome me."</p><p>He decided that if she would just keep looking at him like that, he would vandalise every set of outdoor lights in the city.</p><p>"Yes," she declared.  "It's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me.  Thank you,  Gilbert.  You're a true pal."  She turned to look at him, her eyes shining.  "None of my other useless friends have ever done anything like this.  You are most sincerely awesome." To his complete and utter joy she threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek.  "Now let's get to that show!"</p><p>"Jawohl, Fräulein Braginskaya!" He had to get a photo of this, he thought.  So before they left the hill he took a few shots and posted them immediately on his Twitter with the caption #DontFuckWithAwesome.</p><p>Almost immediately after that, his phone began to  blow up.  "Hey," he said, noticing her number and Bartholomew's face, "your cat is calling on FaceTime."</p><p>"Well, answer it!" she exclaimed.  "Here, I'll talk to him.  Hey, Bartholomew.  What's up?"</p><p>"What the hell are you two doing?" he demanded.  "Has Bird Brain totally forgotten that everyone's on his Twitter, and you're supposed to be sitting in the fucking back yard?"</p><p>"Sorry? What's that?  You're static," Prussia screamed, and shoved his phone into the glove box.  "C'mon,  Birdie.  Let's do this!"</p><p>The show was sold out, but they got in anyways.  "Get up on my shoulders," he said.  "Hold my phone so we can get awesome footage.  I'm LiveStreaming this, so be steady!"</p><p>"Queens of the Stone Age reign!"  Washington yelled into the screen.  The crowd were boisterous and loud, but with her vantage point she was able to get good video, until she realised that she could hear Bartholomew screaming at her from the phone's speaker.  "Oh, shit.  What, dude?"</p><p>"Are you both brain-damaged? That's live on every platform the stupid Hun is on!  You'd better get the fuck back here, because both the Hero and the Lego Lord are blowing your shit up, and leaving angry emojis," Bartholomew warned.  "They're on their way back here right now and you'd better be by that fucking tree when they get here.  Get home now."</p><p>"Fuck me! Gil, c'mon, we gotta go! Put me down.  They're pissed because we aren't sitting in the yard rotting away.  Hurry!"  Plowing through the crowds, they finally made it outside and after a critical delay of several minutes they reached the car. </p><p>"What are they doing spying on my Twitter?" Prussia demanded. "Don't they have other things to do?" They roared towards the highway, lights off just in case they passed America's Chevelle.  The twenty-five minutes it took to get back to the house were the longest and shortest either of them had ever spent.  Luckily, they arrived first.  Bartholomew met them at the door.</p><p> "Get out back! Here.  Put this damn thing on!" He swiped in an Amazon box and tossed a t-shirt at them. </p><p>"Jesus Fuck, Bartholomew," Washington grunted as she and Prussia squeezed into the newly-arrived 'get-along' shirt.  It was so tight that they could barely move once it was on.  Prussia, however, was very much pleased with this.  When he inevitably showed his appreciation for her awesome figure, she glared at him and tried to shift her lower body.</p><p>"Sorry," he said, and she sighed.</p><p>"I know.  It's this damned shirt," she agreed. "Bartholomew, couldn't you get one in a larger size?"</p><p>"That is the larger size," the cat replied. </p><p>"Fuck!"</p><p>"Get out there, you idiots! They're here!"</p><p>Prussia practically dragged her across the lawn and almost ripped the shirt when he sat them down just in time for a suspicion-filled Denmark and America to poke their heads out the sliding doors.  Washington tried to wave, but she couldn't even breathe, much less move her arm.</p><p>"See? I told you they were right fucking here the whole time," Bartholomew said, loudly. "Now you can both go on and  get out of here until Monday like you agreed."</p><p>Denmark narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  "What are they wearing?"</p><p>"I went on Amazon and found them a 'get-along' shirt, because they wouldn't stop fighting," Bartholomew said proudly.  "So they're wearing it now until they can be nice."</p><p>America frowned. " I thought they didn't come in adult sizes," he said. </p><p>"They...don't," Washington gasped.  "I can't move.  Or breathe."</p><p>"Well, as long as everything's okay," Denmark began, still looking slightly suspicious of them.  "I guess we'll head back to the show."  </p><p>Washington and Prussia both whipped their heads around, knocking them violently together.  "What fucking show?  Oh, fuck me right in the ass," Washington groaned, holding her aching head.</p><p>"Queens of the Stone Age," Denmark replied, smiling slyly.  "They totally reign."</p><p>"FUCK!"</p>
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